One Thirty one after Tea
by L'ecureuil
Summary: Sprawled in a guest room, Alec wakes to his favourite warlock doing the laundry by hand. Alec loves Magnus' strange clothes. Unfortunately, Magnus' love for wearing just about anything serves as a problem when Alec fails to take the queues seriously.


**Cassandra Clare is the proud owner of both these stories, whether they are crossed over or not. Failure to believe this is a product of hallucination or legal action with which the rights are bought. If you fall into the first category, I urge you to seek help, or maybe a little caffeine.**

* * *

Alec could tell by the crust between his eyes, and the imprint of the floral patterned pillow carved sharply into his cheek that he'd slept like a stone. He woke blearily. His eyes warming to the setting, only to find that around him wasn't clearly visible. Albeit for a tiny prickling candlelight on his bedside, nearly nothing else was lit.

A familiar figure, Magnus, lounged in the seat next to his bed. His hair was long and flouncy like that of an old squire or musketeer and he beamed at him through it. The sharp angles of his face brightened in light and deepened in shadows, as if dipped. He smiled lazily at Alec, appreciation coating his features.

Dunking a sleeve of material into the washing basin at the foot of the bed, Magnus looked especially old European. "You've slept through the evening meal. If you hurry now, you might get there on time for dessert," said Magnus, "Bridget makes the best porter cake."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Alec rubbed his eyes. "Magnus, how did you bring us back so fast?"

"Back?" said Magnus. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

The echoes of the cloth stirring the basin's contents calmed Alec enough to speak. Moving water, it was familiar after any dream. If he closed his eyes, it sounded like someone was taking a bath, like family in the other room, like home. But he didn't rest his eyes for he knew the moment he gave in, he would doze right off.

"Back, I guess, from this dream I've been having," said Alec as he rubbed at his forehead. "It feels like I've been having it a couple of nights now because I know it so well."

Alec sat up and crawled nearer to Magnus who'd been so seemingly preoccupied with his task that when he saw Alec's proximity, a moment of strange dilatation occurred in his catlike pupils before he settled. Behind those eyes sparked an emotion that Alec was too tired to read into, something akin to worry.

"You seem eager to tell me about your dreams," said Magnus carefully, inching away.

"Well, you were mentioned," said Alec.

With a quirk in his lip, Magnus beamed, "Hopefully the dream spoke well of me."

That accent usually got thicker when Magnus was tired. He must have been exhausted now because it was the strongest Alec heard in a while. Alec furrowed his brow, now taking attention to the washcloth Magnus was cleaning. It was difficult to see in the dark, so Alec pulled it out of Magnus' hand to get a better look. He sat himself beside Magnus, Magnus in the chair and Alec cross-legged on top of the bed sheets.

Alec felt his fingers down the cloth. As he'd suspected, the slimy feel of blood was everywhere, as well as the cold water that was working to rid it. Magnus had to be desperate and very tired to be washing a table napkin by hand thought Alec.

"Have you been doing magic?" asked Alec. Though the burnt smell could have been from the candle on his bedside.

Magnus didn't answer. "You don't seem to bear a nocturnal sight rune. How bizarre," said Magnus quietly, peering at Alec and never questioning why he stole his cloth.

Alec handed the item back before it bled down his arm, "Night vision runes aren't fantastic if you're trying to get sleep. Usually I put them on as a precaution but they're so quick to draw, most Shadowhunters don't bother," said Alec, "Plus, I feel safe around you," he added impishly, peering down to cover his face with his bangs.

Magnus frowned at this, "This dream you had. Would you care to share it with me?"

"Oh, right," Rubbing the back of his neck, Alec yawned and leaned into Magnus' shoulder, snuggling there. Magnus stiffened for a moment but Alec assured him that he wasn't afraid of getting blood on his sleep clothes. As a Shadowhunter, worse things than blood came in contact with his skin and he was too tired to care. "My dream was about Jace and Simon and I returning back in time," he mumbled into Magnus' shoulder, "Strangely, not to our Institute, which would make sense but an exact point in 1870's London, England. We met Herondales, and Lightwoods and Branwells. Will," Alec felt Magnus twitch against his cheek, "Talked about you. And I was so struck with jet lag-well, portal lag that I nearly decked my ancestor for calling you a half-blooded... never mind. You don't want to hear it," said Alec, "Now that I think about it, I don't understand why I didn't punch Gabriel," Alec trailed off deliriously. "Isabelle would say it has to do with keeping the _family jewels_." Not that Alec knew what that meant.

"If you went back to the 1800's," said Magnus after a long silence, "Where did you travel from?"

"In my dream, there was a portal, not a regular one-"

Magnus chimed in, "I meant, whereabouts did you begin your glorified journey through time?"

Alec struggled to remember so he backpedaled, "In it, Simon was injured. Clary had made us a portal to get him back to the Institute. I think it was near Long Island City in Queens."

"Do you remember the date?" asked Magnus.

Alec nodded. "Well, we were comparing dates when we got to the London Institute with Will and Charlotte. Jace and I calculated that it had been around a hundred and thirty one years between their time and ours. We didn't tell them that, of course," said Alec, ever serious, "The chances of messing up our histories were too great and Simon is somewhat of an expert on time travel theories. He watched a doctor on TV talk about it. Jace made up a lie about us boating here from the colonies and I'm really glad they bought it," A shudder ran through Alec's frame, fingers reacting by gripping into the bed sheets, "Not that I'm ever going to run into this problem, it's just, hypothetically, could you imagine the historical damage we could have done if the Lightwoods and Herondales had known we were their heritage?" Alec was by now mumbling into Magnus' shoulder, "Magnus, it could have been a disaster." Magnus didn't have a chance to comment for Alec fell asleep, curling into the warmth of his shoulder like a needy koala. The poor thing began to snore.

At loss, Magnus wished he'd gotten a name out of the strange, beautiful Nephilim. He carded a hand through Alec's hair, trying to glean some kind of memory of seeing this face in the last hundred years. Inexplicably, nothing came up.

Shakily, Magnus moved Alec from his body and onto the bed. Once he was properly tucked in, Magnus grasped the candelabra in one hand and went to examine his other patient. This one was a brown haired vampire, fast asleep and healing from a violent hellhound attack. This vampire was peculiar for the great dedication the blond one put into acquiring a healer for him. If Magnus read such a passage in a novel, he would have thought it an act of forbidden love between species'.

Speaking of the blond one, he returned moments later with a plate of Bridget's porter cake which he offered to Magnus. Magnus didn't miss the crinkle of his nose at his bloody hands. He came with someone. Watching from the doorway, Charlotte wasn't far behind.

"How are they?" The blond one asked, his golden eyes leveled at Magnus with the flat look one got when bothered. He was a good actor, incredibly blasé for someone so disturbed by the night's events.

"May I speak to this man alone?" Magnus addressed Charlotte over his shoulder. "It's quite personal."

Honestly believing it to be a medical issue, Charlotte left the sanctuary with little word.

"Are you Jace or Simon?" asked Magnus, staring at him in the candlelight like merely looking into his eyes could tell the answer.

" _Jace_ ," said Jace, "Why?"

"You're awfully far from home."

Jace easily fell back into character, lying so well Magnus thought him a thespian. Shadowhunters, however, didn't have theatre in their extracurricular, "We had to leave. Our safety depended on us being as far from the colonies as we could," said Jace, "The curse that demon put was very specific. I would think a warlock of all creatures would understand this," he looked like he was about to add a biting comment but ultimately didn't. It seemed that being near sleeping friends kept him on a very small leash.

Jace didn't answer the real question, what with the absence of it.

Magnus held up an object, "What might this be? What is it made of?"

Jace snatched it out of his hand so fast it caused the candle to flicker sporadically. "Simon's watch," he said, "Warlock, if you've stolen anything of ours I will skin you from the arm up. If you've laid a finger-"

"Cut the act," said Magnus dryly, "I know that you recognize me. Your friend who you put a sleeping rune on woke up a moment ago and told me a great deal of how he believes that being in the nineteenth century is a myth created by his sleep deprived mind. Unfortunately, he's wrong," Magnus stepped forward, towering over Jace, "Tell me, Jace: _Who are you?_ "


End file.
